Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me?
So Judas did to Christ; but he, in twelve,

Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand,

none.

God save the king!-Will no man say, amen?

Am I both priest and clerk? Well, then, amen.

God save the king! although I be not he;
And yet, amen, if Heaven do think him me.-

To do what service am I sent for hither?

York. To do that office, of thine own good will, Which tired majesty did make thee offer,

The resignation of thy state and crown

To Henry Bolingbroke.

K. Rich. Give me the crown.-Here, cousin, seize the crown;

Here on this side, my hand; and on that side, thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,

That owes two buckets filling one another;
The emptier ever dancing in the air,

The other down, unseen, and full of water.
That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign.
K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs are
mine.

You may my glories and my state depose,

But not my griefs: still am I king of those.

Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your

crown.

K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares

down.

2

My care is loss of care, by old care done;
Your care is gain of care, by new care won.
The cares I give, I have, though given away;
They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.

3

1 Owns.

2 Richard seems to say here that "his cares are not made less by the increase of Bolingbroke's cares; "-"his grief is, that his regal cares are at an end, by the cessation of care to which he had been accustomed." 3 Attend.

Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown? K. Rich. Ay, no ;-no, ay ;-for I must nothing be; Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. Now mark me how I will undo myself:I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm,' With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths.2 All pomp and majesty I do forswear; My manors, rents, revénues, I forego; My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny. God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me! God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved; And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved! Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! God save king Henry, unkinged Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days!— What more remains?

North.

3

you

No more, but that read
[Offering a paper.

These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
Committed by your person, and your followers,
Against the state and profit of this land;
That, by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily deposed.
K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out
My weaved-up follies? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,
There shouldst thou find one heinous article,-
Containing the deposing of a king,

1 Oil of consecration.

2 The first quarto reads duty's rites.

3 Thus the folio. The quarto reads that swear.

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,-
Marked with a blot, damned in the book of Heaven.-
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,-
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
Have here delivered me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.

North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles.
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see;
And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
But they can see a sort of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest ;
For I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king;
Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave;
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.
North. My lord,

2

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting

man,

Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,-
No, not that name was given me at the font,—
But 'tis usurped.-Alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
And know not now what name to call myself!
O that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!-

Good king,-great king,-(and yet not greatly good,)
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight;
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

3

Boling. Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. [Exit an Attendant.

1 A sort is a set or company.

2 i. e. haughty.

3 His for its. It was common in the Poet's time to use the personal for

the neutral pronoun.

North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth

come.

K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell.

Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, When I do see the very book indeed

Where all my sins are writ, and that's—myself.

Re-enter Attendant, with a glass.

Give me that glass, and therein will I read.—
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine,

And made no deeper wounds?-O, flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity,

Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face,
That every day under his household roof

Did keep ten thousand men ?1

Was this the face,

That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? 2
Was this the face, that faced so many follies,
And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory shineth in this face:

As brittle as the glory is the face;

[Dashes the glass against the ground. For there it is, cracked in a hundred shivers.Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face. Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed The shadow of your face.

Say that again.

Ha! let's see :

K. Rich.
The shadow of my sorrow?
'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ;
And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,

That swells with silence in the tortured soul;

1 "To his household came every day to meate ten thousand men.”— Chronicle History.

2 The quarto omits this line and the four preceding words.

There lies the substance and I thank thee, king,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it?

Boling.

Name it, fair cousin.

K. Rich. Fair cousin! I am greater than a king: For, when I was a king, my flatterers

Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
I have a king here to my flatterer.

Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Boling. Yet ask.

K. Rich. And shall I have?

Boling. You shall.

K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?

K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the tower. K. Rich. O, good! Convey?-Conveyers' are you

all,

That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.2

[Exeunt K. RICH., some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.

[Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle, and AUMERLE.

Abbot. A woful pageant have we here beheld. Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot

To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein,

You shall not only take the sacrament

1 "To convey" is the word for sleight of hand or juggling. Richard means that it is a term of contempt "jugglers are you all."

2 This is the last of the additional lines first printed in the quarto of 1608. In the first editions there is no personal appearance of king Richard.